Double Jeopardy
by airwolf addict
Summary: Story 25. The Hawke brothers have a propensity towards trouble, but just how much can the two of them get into when String goes alone is on a mission to save Archangel?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

A dense, misty fog hung in the air as shadows overtook the area. Rows and rows of flowers and headstones lined the whole parameter, a small structured few standing alone in the center. It was a desolate, lonely land, an area few wished to be but some, especially relative of the recently deceased, frequented often. The area would be closed off at sunset, and as the last shimmering golden rays slipped behind the horizon Hawke realized he wouldn't have long, but he didn't need long. Just a couple of minutes to pay his respects before he had to leave.

He really should have come sooner, more often, he thought guiltily. It wasn't like the cemetery was that far away, but he could always come up with some excuse avoiding it. It was so depressing, all these lifeless dead bodies that resided here, so lifeless, dull, melancholy…. But he shouldn't have waited so long, he scolded himself again, it only made it harder. He really should be over this, he thought, after all, it had been so long since they had died, leaving him and Saint John alone to fend off the world. Alright, he conceded, not totally alone. Dom had been there, the only constant in his life for so many years, and still was.

Twenty nine years today, and the first time he had been here in who knows how long. Exactly twenty nine years today his parents had been dead, and sixteen years, four months and two weeks that Saint John had been missing in action. Heartache after heartache….. But who was counting?

Who was he kidding? Surely not himself. He remembered every time, every date, every reason, all with excruciating detail and all this place did was help him relive every dreaded minute of it. Still, was it so much to ask that he come by and pay his respects occasionally?

Yeah, he had a busy life, but then, so did everybody else; that was still no excuse. It hurt, it hurt terribly, that was his only excuse.

Numbly, his legs carried him over to the burial sight of his parents. It had taken days of searching to find their bodies that had been washed downstream after the storm, but finally they had been, the funeral preformed, and the legal documents necessary for Dom to become their legal guardian taken care of. Afterward it had been nearly another two weeks before he had even said a single word, and then only after countless efforts by Dom and Saint John's bravery and determination, _and heartfelt concern._ Dom had taken great care of them, given them hours of his time and endless amounts of love and all the care he could provide, but there was no denying things were never quit the same.

Tanned fingers ran across the inscribed stone names on the headstone belonging to his parents, tears glinting in his eyes.

"Why?" he choked. "Why did you have to leave us? We were so young….."

Of course they gave no answer, only the eerily howling wind wrestling with the trees.

There was no point in getting angry; no earthly power could do anything more for them no more than they could all those years ago, but still it seemed so wrong, so unfair.

"I was only ten," he whispered, "and Sinj not much older."

A dreary silence filled the air as the chill of darkness began to set in and darkness overpowering all else.

How was it that this bothered him so, yet he could continue to live in his grandfather's cabin on a daily basis?

Why was it that even after so many years their death was still so fresh in his mind?

Wispy grey clouds hid the sun from sight, letting the rising moon and a scattering of stars illuminate the graveyard, ghost town, he amended.

Maybe it was because, hard as it was, his grandfather's death seemed more natural. He had had a good long life, enjoyed it to the fullest, and he had something to pass on. His parents, on the other hand, hadn't known the fate that was awaiting them, that that was to be their last afternoon on this earth. The only memorable thing they left behind where two boys, - two young, scared, lonely, and hurt boys.

He had come here multiple time after Saint John had first gone missing and he had finally come home after, often he thought it might be better if he joined his parents, but never once did he doubt that Saint John hadn't yet. Somewhere he was out there. Saint John wouldn't leave him all alone, and he wouldn't leave Saint John. For so long that was the only reason he fought to live, so that he could hunt for Saint John. What other reason did he have?

A cool breeze whipped through the tree tops, sending a chill down his spine.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier," he apologized sincerely. "I'm leaving in the morning but I should be back soon hopefully. I'll try to remember to come by a little more often," he promised.

Shoving up to his feet from his kneeling position, Hawke gently set a single rose on each of the graves and turned to leave, each footstep growing harder to take.

A full moon shone above, casting a yellowish glow over the cemetery and making the grim place look even more fore boarding. He didn't want to be here, yet he found it so hard to leave.

Finally leaving the burial grounds behind him and attempting to leave the memories too, he trudged out to the waiting vehicle.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Caitlin woke early, planning to fixing coffee and intending to enjoy breakfast with her husband this morning before heading up to the hangar later, but things were not at all going to be going according to plan.

She pulled her robe around her and tying the belt around her waist. Instead of heading downstairs for the warm sent of coffee, String's doing undoubtedly, and into Chance's bedroom where the three year old was fussing. Gathering the young child into her arms, she lifted him up and carried him downstairs.

It soon became very evident that her plans for an early breakfast with String wasn't happening; he was already gone. Did they have and early film shoot she had forgotten about? She didn't remember anything being said about one, but maybe it was something last minute, or something she had missed.

\A/

Unfolding the note Hawke had left on his desk, Dominic read the message that had been hastily scribbled down and left on his desk.

A frown furrowing his brow, he reread the note, and hoped what he was thinking it said wasn't what it really meant.

_Iranians have Michael, possible brainwashing/ torture for information on FIRM secret files. Instructed to keep from happening at all costs. I_

That would definitely explain him not showing up to work this morning and the concerned look on Caitlin's face when she found out he wasn't already here. What it didn't explain was why he would be so stupid as to go alone, especially after the recent events that had caused him to forget practically everything. Only recently had he gotten most everything back and he still didn't remember anything from about three days before the explosion until he woke up nearly four weeks later.

Half hidden from sight, he spotted a piece of scrap paper with various notes scrawled all over it. Much of the handwriting was illegible, but he did manage to decipher something about testing a new weapons system in the middle east.

Surely the FIRM wouldn't have sent him on his own against the latest tactical weapons in a foreign country. He knew that they could be pretty ruthless, but if String didn't come back in one piece…. They'd need their own tactical weapons system to keep him from getting at them.

He still couldn't believe they would do that. in general, the committee was ungrateful for all Hawke did for them. Was it all that much too ask that he get a little backup while he was rescuing their man? Evidently they thought so.

If he had left as early as Caitlin said, then he would be well out of the area he could reach by radio, so there was no chance of getting him to turn back now.

"Dom?" Caitlin asked, seeing the disgruntled look on his face after he read the note. "Is everything alright?"

"I sure hope so."

"What'd you mean hope so?"

"String went after Michael who is being held prisoner in Iran."

"Have there been any demands? A trade? Airwolf for Michael - something like that?"

He shook his head, "at least not yet."

"At least he has a better chance if they don't know he's coming."

"That's true." He didn't have the heart to tell her they had an all new weapons system just waiting to be tested on him and Airwolf. Besides, he didn't have proof the two were related, maybe it was only rumor. Or maybe he just didn't want to admit the odds, he thought downheartedly.

"It may not have been very smart, but he'll be ok," Caitlin said with a false enthusiasm. He probably would, usually did, but they would both feel better if someone was there to back him up.

Saint John joined them in the hangar, only now arriving due to traffic problems coming back from dropping Le off at school.

"Sorry I'm late; the traffic was crazy. Honestly I never knew there were so many cars in Van Nuys. Hey, where's String? I've been meaning to talk to him about something."

"He's not here," Cait replied.

"Why not? He can't use the traffic excuse coming up from the cabin, and you're already here."

"He was gone before I was up - some mission in Iran to save Michael."

"Without backup?" His tone was incredulous. "Please tell me there was some plan in this hair-brained idea."

"We hope so," Dominic said, " but none of us even knew 'til he had already been gone a while. He'd be way past where we could reach him by radio and we don't know anymore specifics than somewhere in Iran Michael is being held captive and that he is supposed to take care of things before Michael gets the chance to give some valuable information away. Now you know everything we know."

"Do they know he's coming?"

"Can't say for sure. Never said anything about a trade or demands, but there is a lot he didn't say, or at least I hope so. If he is going in there as blind as we are now, things aren't looking too bright."

No, he refused to believe his brother would do something that crazy without a plan. It may not necessarily be something the rest of them would guess, or maybe even like, but he had to have something in mind.

"There's no way of reaching him?"

"None that we have."

Why, String, why? Dom wondered. Why would you go alone? That weapons system - did he maybe think that making sure the enemy didn't get anything from Michael 'at all costs' may include his life as part of the cost? Better for him to die than many? He hoped not.

Little as he knew about this mission, he had a really bad feeling about it. Something was wrong, it just didn't quite make sense. String wasn't suicidal, he'd come up with a plan, wouldn't he?


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Marella handed her boss the disk compatible with Airwolf's computer system and containing the necessary information for the mission. Now all he had to do was persuade Hawke to take the mission. That in and of its self could be an arduous task. This really wasn't his cup of tea, but maybe he could appeal to Hawke by some past experience they'd both had, but only if necessary. Not bringing that up would sure make his life easier. Hawke's too. He didn't particularly like using past experiences to con him into doing a mission, but for nation security's sake, some of the missions were necessary. Airwolf just happened to be the perfect weapon of choice. She was practically made for this mission, her stealth capabilities and still having the needed armament if any problems arose.

Typically other nations could solve their problems between themselves, but according to intelligence and a few rumors, Iran was about to get a hold of some weapons the United States, or anyone for that matter, didn't want them to have. If the Iranians decided they didn't like the US anymore….then they just wouldn't be on the face of the map anymore.

Truly, it was in everybody's best interest to have Airwolf handle this one before they had World War III on their hands, or worse.

\A/

The threesome were still at the hangar discussing the unusual and risky mission Hawke had taken on when Saint John interrupted.

"We've got a bigger problem than him not going in with backup."

"What?" the other two asked simultaneously.

"Michael's not being held prisoner."

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III climber out from the back of the pristine white FIRM limo, rosewood cane in hand, but not even using it. Marella followed with a stack of neat folders and a disk.

"You didn't just get rescued by Airwolf from some Iranian captors did you?"

"No," Michael answered, a confused expression crossing his features. "I've been at Knightsbridge all morning preparing the details for this mission."

"Well, you see, the Lady isn't home right now," Dom explained, "the problem is, she's supposed to be off finding you."

\A/

"You won't get away with this," Hawke spat.

"We've got you and Airwolf. What more do we need? What is there not to get away with? We could take over the world one country at a time."

"Yeah, how'd that one work out for Germany?"

"You just don't seem to see things our way, but you will, Stringfellow Hawke. It would be in your better interest the sooner you did too. I'm sure we could work out some kind of reward for your help. Taking over all these countries should bring in a very nice revenue you understand."

"I'm not helping, I don't even want the money," he smart-mouthed defiantly.

"You can't lie, Hawke. It's in human nature to want money and power, fame."

He mutely glared at them, icy cold eyes in a deadly stare.

"You inhospitable glowering will get you nowhere," his captor admonished.

He continued glaring.

"Whether you think so or not, sooner or later you will see where I'm coming from, Hawke, make my words you will."

\A/

"So the Iranians could not only have this new defense system, stat of the art machinery, but also Airwolf?" Michael ranted. "This couldn't get much worse."

"We don't _**know** _that they have any of that," Caitlin argued. "The other was only rumor as far as we know and maybe Hawke figured out it was a trap before it was too late."

"I hope your right, Cait, but we have to prepare for the worst, and I'm thinking it's the worst that we're going to get."

"If it's the worst, then it won't really matter all that much any more because all of North America will be wiped off the face of the planet."

"We'll have to stop them before they can get that far then," Saint John said without a second thought. "Preferably without getting into an all out war."

\A/

Confined to an eight by eight cell and already driving himself out of his mind, Hawke sat in the corner of his prison trying to come up with a plan of escape. There was nothing apparently visible as an aid to escape, but one thing was for sure - he wasn't planning on sticking around here.

He banged bruised knuckles into the concrete brick wall, the pain his only distraction from reality. He definitely had to get out of here, and soon, he thought, otherwise he would destroy himself trying to escape actuality.

A sudden pang of guilt hit him. Saint John had been held prisoner much like this for sixteen years, was it not fair he get the same treatment? Nothing he did made him anymore special than his brother.

This time Airwolf was involved though and it couldn't be left in the wrong hands. He had to escape with Airwolf, and if that wasn't possible, destroy her. Escaping with her would be much easier said than done though for a couple of reasons. First off, she wasn't in the best of conditions after she got shot down, and secondly, because he was confined to a square concrete cell hardly large enough to walk around in and no way of escaping.

He dropped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. Why did he have to be so easily predicted, so stupid? If he hadn't been so intent to get here as fast as possible and bring along some backup maybe he wouldn't be confined to a prison cell not much larger than a closet. Or it might be not be only him that had to escape or be tortured into living out their worst nightmares, he remedied himself. There had been a plan behind the madness.

How did people live through this sometimes for years without loosing their minds? he wondered. How had he done it for two months in those awful camps hidden in the jungles of North Vietnam? He had been here maybe a couple of days and he was already driving himself crazy. The seconds didn't drag by slowly, they seemed to stop altogether, locking him in an inescapable prison for eternity.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Overhead he could here helicopter passing - Hueys. He'd know their distinctive whomp, whomp anywhere. It came closer, growing louder, then slowed and landed nearby. If only he could get out, maybe the Huey would provide a distraction long enough for him to get Airwolf and get away. That was if he could get out though.

There were no windows to climb out, only thin slivers out of the concrete block wall on one side to let a little light in. The door was fastened tightly, locked with bolt and key on the other side and no way to even open it from the inside. A thin mattress lay on the ground on one side of the room, that being the only furniture and tool he had to work with.

Somehow he would get away. Maybe if…. His thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt flinging open of the heavy metal door.

Before he could even think about trying to escape thought, his captor hauled him to his feet and handcuffed his hands behind his back. He was marched down the narrow corridor, being roughly snatched anytime he was even the slightest bit off course. Hawke obediently walked down the hallway, constantly taking in the area and noting every detail as he went. Airwolf was no where in sight.

"Move," the man behind him ordered.

"I am," Hawke bit out, taking another limping step forward, "maybe if you provided a slightly more hospitable experience for your guests they wouldn't be so stove up and grumpy."

"Just keep moving."

He was ordered into the outer part of a large hangar, mechanics heading for the far end where a large helicopter was being moved in. The shape was right, it could be Airwolf, but why would they practically bring him to her? He pulled away from his escort who in turn yanked him back, the handcuffs biting into his wrists. He glowered back. They sure hadn't made this easy for him, no chance in escaping like that, he thought sourly.

\A/

If Hawke did run into the Esfahani's, the ones with the new weaponry and defense system, there was a good possibility that Airwolf was shot down, Hawke injured or captured, but not destroyed," Marella said. "Hawke is good enough that even damaged he probably could have landed her, maybe even gotten away."

"So String might or not be injured or being held somewhere in Iran?" Dom asked rhetorically. "That isn't anything to work with!"

"We will mount a rescue team as soon as Hawke and Airwolf are located," Michael stated, "but we can't just go in guns a blazing if we don't know what we're going up against."

"he did to save you," Saint John reminded.

"And you see where that got him. We have what could become a global concern depending on the outcome of this."

"I'm not leaving him there to rot!" Saint John told him outright. "I **am** going to do all I can to save him whether you do or not."

"I'm not suggesting we abandon him, I'm saying it could take a little time."

"You yourself said they could be torturing him or planning to use Airwolf for mass destruction," Saint John said pointedly. "None of us can afford the time, and I don't plan to take any longer than necessary.

"Saint John, if we go in without some idea what the situation is all we're likely to do is end up in a cell right next to Hawke."

"You know, they say the best way to learn something is to immerse yourself in it," Saint John finished, spinning around on his heels and leaving the room.

Chance wriggled in his mother's arm, attempting to get free and follow his uncle.

"No honey, leave him be for now."

"Want Daddy," he fussed.

"I know, we all do, but-"

"No. Want Daddy now," he whined.

\A/

"Listen," Sanjar said, "if you would just do what I said this would be much more enjoyable for both of us."

"I'm not using Airwolf against my own country," he refused defiantly. "And nothing you say or do is going to change that."

"We'll see about that," Sanjar sneered, unconvinced. "You, as much as anyone else, know that you can only hold out so long. You can only take so much pain before you give in."

"I'd rather die."

"That could be arranged, you know. But that wouldn't do me much good would it? That beautiful black helicopter out there needs a pilot."

"Why would you even need it? It obviously isn't the best thing out there anymore or you wouldn't have been able to shoot me down. Unless I'm just not the best pilot anymore."

"Your humbleness is admirable, Hawke, although a bit amusing. You are the best combat pilot and you know it, knowing it is probably a good part of why you can take on odds so highly against you without much hesitation."

"Not afraid of the odds? Hardly. Why do you think I came without backup? I was afraid I might not make it back."

"And yet you didn't hesitate on flying through my new defenses?"

"There is no time for hesitations up there."

"That still doesn't mean I'm the best. Could just mean I don't have any common sense"

"Why settle for just first place when you can have first _and _second? The more the merrier."

Hawke remained silent.

"Can't think of a good comeback?" Sanjar Esfahani taunted. "What is it that makes you so loyal to the good old US of A? They sent you off to a foreign country to get you butt shut off for some war you weren't even allowed to win, robbed you of years you could have used to make your dreams come true, robbed you of your youth and innocence, robbed you of your brother."

Hawke remained quiet, a dangerous and deadly glint sparkling in his piercing, cold eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Marella entered Michael's office a few minutes later, a surprised and confused expression evident on her features.

"You're still here?"

Now it was Dom's turn to look confused. "We're staying until we can come to some agreement over what we're doing about rescuing String."

"Oh, I see…."

"What is it?" Michael questioned; she wasn't telling them all she knew.

"Saint John just left with one of our helicopters on the way to the airport. He said you all would be joining him in just a moment and that you were going after Hawke." This time speaking directly to Michael, she said, "he claimed you decided it was best we start as soon as possible and for you to have me arrange transportation and an agent to meet him there."

\A/

Sanjar rapped against the table again. "What is it?" he demanded. "Tell me or I swear I'll kill you!" he threatened, letting his anger and irritation take charge over his emotions.

Hawke remained silent, unfearing. Barely contained anger boiled up inside him though. He had been mocked and spat upon but what infuriated him the most were the cruel insults that had been made over every wrong choice he'd ever made, his morals and values, his country, _his family_. For his bad behavior he'd already received many slaps, punches, bloodied knuckles, and having his hands cuffed tightly behind his back again. The cold, now bloody and sticky metal bit into his flesh, pinching it and only adding to his sour mood.

"You will help me, Hawke, whatever it takes. By the time I'm done with you, you'd die for me."

"Not likely."

"Take him back to his cell," Sanjar ordered his men sternly. "Now! Before I decided to kill him right here."

Snatching him up, the muscular man hauled Hawke to his feet, giving him a forceful shove forward and back to his cell.

Staggering a little, he limped forward, favoring his right leg.

"Starting to feel a little pain are you?" the henchman jeered. "If you were better behaved maybe you wouldn't hurt so badly."

Stumbling again, this time intentionally, he stopped, that guard almost bumping into him. Using the moment to his advantage, Hawke pulled away, yanking his handcuffed hands out of the guard's grip and knocking his feet out from under him.

As the guard dropped to the floor, Hawke skittered away with a kind of loping limp towards Airwolf.

Only seconds later, Sanjar noticed the sudden ruckus and sent his men after the escaping prisoner.

Gunshots rung out through the air, empty shells hitting the concrete floor continuously as the multitude of men sprang up and into action.

Pulling the pilot's side door open, Hawke climbed inside, bullets riddling the sides of the helicopter as he did so. Ducking out of sight and quietly climbing out the other side, Hawke made his way out of the building and out into the open.

"He's inside," one man told his superior even as the group surrounded the big black helicopter.

The knowing smirk fell from Sanjar's face. "No, he figured it out, he's going to find the real one. I told JahAngir his fake look a like wouldn't work."

"It's a perfect copy," one argued.

"If it were a perfect copy he might've fallen for it. If it were, we wouldn't need the real Airwolf."

Exhausted, Hawke finally located where they had been hiding Airwolf and started to clamber un until a rough hand on his shoulder told him it wasn't going to be that easy. It pulled him out hard, throwing him to the ground and leaving him to Sanjar's mercies.

"How stupid do you think I am? I always knew that sad remake wouldn't fool you. I didn't think you would actually try something as foolish as to attempt escaping. Look around you! You are so greatly outnumbered. I should shoot you for your stupidity. Luckily for you, I'd prefer not to have anymore dead bodies to clean up."

\A/

Saint John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The sixteen hour flight wouldn't normally be his favorite thing to do, but the possibility of his younger brother's fate depending on him, the trip was unbearable. If he had Airwolf at least he would have something to do piloting her, and he could get there faster, but he didn't have her and he was just going to have to live with that. Maybe String was able to get away, delayed by some other reason other than being held captive by the Iranians, he hoped, he also knew that that was likely. He would have to make contact somehow. For all he knew, Airwolf could be on her way to take over a small country of choice right now, or String could be stranded somewhere with a very damaged aircraft and nothing to eat or drink, miles away from any friendly civilization, or possibly, Airwolf didn't even exist anymore. Could String have gotten in so far over his head that it cost him his life? He definitely knew that was possible when he went in.

No, he told himself. String may be in a bind, he would buy that, maybe even a little worse for wear, but he was not dead, he just wasn't.

The stewardess came by offering him a drink.

He accepted, sipping it absently as his thoughts raced. He had to come up with a plan. Airwolf in the hands of the Iranians was bad news, but if they somehow, by brainwashing or torture, got him to crack, to work for them, all hell was likely to break loose.

\A/

"Momma Mia! Saint John too?" Dominic exclaimed. It wasn't enough that String was most likely being held captive in a middle eastern country halfway around the world, but now Saint John was going to end up joining him if he wasn't careful.

"What are we going to do now?"

"Caitlin," Lauren addressed embarrassedly entering the room. "Could you come here for a minute?"

"Sure, what is it?" she asked as she followed Michael's white clad assistant down the hall.

"I was watching Chance as requested and he fell asleep a while ago. But then he woke up crying about twenty minutes ago and hasn't stopped since. Nothing I do will make him quit.

"Want Daddy!" Chance wailed as they came into the room.

"Shh… I Know, honey. I want him too," she coaxed, gathering him up into her arms. "He'll be back soon. Uncle Saint John went to get him back."

He quieted for the briefest of moments, eyelids drooping, then his fussy fit began all over again. Fat tear drops rolling down his cheeks as he choked up heart wrenching cries.

He missed String, Caitlin thought miserably, she missed String, but this wasn't the usual fussiness he periodically got. There was something more. This was something more pain filled rather than he was just missing his dad.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"What must I do to make you understand?" Sanjar interrogated, "Soon your helicopter's technology wil no longer be so special. I've got specialists taking it apart as we speak. Hawke, if you don't act soon and give me some reason to spare you, you will no longer be needed."

"I'm not feeling too needed right now," he growled.

"Would you like me to just kill you now and get it over with?"

"It might be preferable."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated, and I wouldn't suggest you talking like that or you'll soon find yourself dead."

"Like I said, that would probably be preferable," he replied coldly.

"Fine. If that is what you wish. I have your helicopter and all its technology. What more do I need?"

"You know you can't fly her."

"Then I will learn. Like you, Hawke, my resources are expendable."

He brought up the gun, lining it up for an instantly fatal head shot.

Hawke remained unflinching.

\A/

Saint John gathered the very few belongings he had with him and started to file off the plane with the other passengers. Glancing down at the information Marella had given to him and started heading up to the small café at the airport terminal where he was to meet the FIRM agent.

Taking a seat and looking at the unfamiliar menu, he searched for something that at least looked vaguely pronounceable.

"May I sit?" a dark haired, dark skinned attractive woman asked, gesturing towards the chair in front of him.

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

She smiled as she gingerly sat down. "You look a little lost," she said finally breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, more than a little actually."

"I thought so." She took a few seconds to analyze his accent, his appearance, then finally decided to chance it. "You know Michael?"

\A/

Saint John nodded in understanding.

"You should stay with me," she suggested. "It is too late to do anything tonight, and I think you'll have a challenging time finding another place to stay."

"I need to be doing whatever I can, his time could be running out."

"Rest," she advised. "Getting in and out without getting caught will be no easy feat and you'll need your strength."

He started to object, but she quickly broke in again.

"I have a nice guest room you can stay in and you can leave at first light in the morning, but it would be better for both of you if you wait."

"How would it benefit both of us?" he asked skeptically.

"You would do well to have some much needed sleep after your long flight."

"And my brother?"

"Sanjar tends to be pretty active at night, so you're more likely to get caught, and if he finds out you were coming in as a rescue attempt, especially if he finds out you two are brothers, things won't be pretty, and that is if either of you survives."

\A/

Sanjar's fingers tightened around the gun. "You're really going to just let me kill you?"

Hawke continued to sit perfectly still and silent.

"Fine. If you want to be dead so badly I can at least grant you that wish."

The shot rang out clear, shattering the air then lodging firmly into the wall. The second was a direct hit straight through the temple, thick blood trickling down from his forehead and the fatal gunshot wound.

A guard outside the door grimaced. He knew Hawke had it coming, he just wouldn't back down, but he had to admit, Hawke had spunk, bravery and courage to the end. Too bad the end had to be this way, he thought. For the valor he showed he at least deserved to die with some dignity.

\A/

Tossing from side to side, Saint John tried to get some rest as the agent had advised, but sleep continuously evaded him, concern for his brother constantly plaguing him.

So this is what I put him through for sixteen dreadful years, he thought bitterly, what a bloody nightmare. I think I had the easier job and I was the prisoner.

Rolling over again, he attempted to get at least a little sleep.

Down a short narrow hall, he heard quiet footsteps, someone was up and moving around already, a quiet voice indistinctly heard in the distance.

Singing - the words he didn't know, the language unfamiliar, but the melody was calming, reassuring its faint melodic whisper a comfort, soothing. Gradually it faded away as he at last succumbed to a light sleep.

It was hours before he woke again, this time to warm sunshine filtering through the above window and a comforting hand resting over his own.

"I see you're finally awake," she smiled warmly. "Didn't sleep well, huh?"

"Not for a while," he admitted.

"String - he is your brother? The one being held captive?"

"Yes. How'd you-"

"You kept calling for him in your sleep," she explained. "If there is any possibility of him coming back, you will be able to do it. You have much determination."

He half grinned sheepishly at the comment.

"_He_ is the one with much dedication."

She nodded although not completely understanding.

"Breakfast is ready. Should come and eat."

'Thank you, I appreciate it, I really do, but I need to get going."

"If you must," she conceded. "If you can, come back by this way. There are many unfriendly working for Sanjar. I can give you and your brother a place to stay and hide until it is safe enough to leave."

"Thank you again."

"And stay away from the any public places - hospitals, parks, anything," she warned. "And, Saint John…"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Groaning in pain, Hawke drew in a deep breath, surprised he had survived the encounter at all. Maybe throwing himself towards his captor who was about to shoot him to wrestle for the gun while still handcuffed wasn't one of his better ideas. It had worked though, just barely, he admitted, already noticing the cool blood dripping from his cheek where the bullet had grazed him, only a mere fraction away from what would have been fatal.

After checking the gun's clip he was even more even more glad he had made his shot the first time - it was now empty.

Now he had to get Airwolf and get out, a rather arduous task with no gun, but it was probably the only chance he was going to get.

Checking the hallway first, then once it was clear, gimping down the hall and outside, his abused body feeling every miserable step.

He quickly found the hangar but Airwolf was nowhere in sight.

Slipping around the outside quietly, he searched the area for where they were hiding the Lady.

All those beatings and his lack of sleep the last few days was really catching up with him, he admitted ruefully tom himself. He limped painfully forward, stumbling for a moment before regaining his balance, happening to catch a glimpse of Airwolf.

"There he is!" he heard someone shout from behind him.

"Great, just what I needed," he murmured, cursing to himself.

Shots rang out again, round after round pounding all around him as he ran for Airwolf. Reaching Airwolf and safety, he pulled open the side hatch door and scrambled inside, the gunshots still ricocheting off the composite fuselage.

He punched the button labeled 'start one' but there wasn't enough power to get her up.

'Come on Angel, come on.'

Still not quite enough.

He tired bypassing the mains and starting up on the secondaries, but it also was a futile effort.

The guards were now braving it enough to start coming near, and while their current weaponry wouldn't cause Airwolf any further damage. He would prefer not to stick around until they brought out the big guns.

'Lock both hatches and switch to bare minimum. Everything manual, then retry startup.'

'Error. Cannot process request. Approaching enemies. Switching to minimum power would further endanger Airwolf integrity and pilot safety.'

"If you don't Airwolf won't exists and neither will the pilot, or at least he'll wish he didn't. 'Override. Manual and bare minimum now.'

'Override accepted. All systems manual.'

The main rotors started to turn ever so slowly, a gradual movement as the guards surrounded the big black battleship.

'Come on, baby, come on.'

Finally the long rotors gained enough speed, now growing faster until they were ripping through the air, slicing through with deadly speed, lifting up off the soft and sandy soil as the infantry moved forward.

\A/

Caitlin rocked the toddler who was now suddenly quiet, a blessing after the incessant screaming he had been doing for the last thirty minutes. Often he would sleep after a fussy fit, and he was quiet, but definitely not asleep. Totally silent, not making a sound though.

"How'd you get him quiet?" Lauren asked.

She shook her head silently in response. "I don't know. He just suddenly quit crying and hasn't made a sound since then."

"Is he alright?" she asked concernly noting the peculiarity of the three year old's sudden silence.

"I hope so; he's been acting kind of strangely the whole time String has been gone."

"Do you want a doctor to take a look at him or something? It wouldn't be any trouble and he could be coming down with something."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt anything to take a look, but he kind of shares Hawke's dislike of doctors."

"Is there any way they aren't alike?" she asked good-naturedly.

"Chance is blonder, that's about it. Some of these things I can't even think of any logical reasons why he would be that way, but honestly it wouldn't surprise me all that much if it wasn't long before he was flying and playing the cello. Typically he even prefers vegetarian meals."

\A/

Now having gained purchase of the air, Airwolf started forward, men shouting behind.

The engine stalled out and he was loosing altitude fast but he had to get out of there somehow. Cheating death once today was enough for him. Next time he might not be so lucky. He wondered what his likelihood of survival would be right now if one of Michael's angels were to run it through the computer, but it would probably be better if he didn't know the odds because he already figured they were against him and getting decidedly more so.

Now he was down to about a thousand feet and still dropping. Maybe with the turbos he could… oh wait, he couldn't use the turbos - not enough power. Muttering, mumbling, and cursing under his breath, he tried to pull up, to at least not lose any more altitude, but it was more than obvious he was fighting a loosing battle.

All radio communications were out, all the automatic armament was uselessly confined inside the hidden ADF pods. His only hope if he had to land would be the shoulder rocket launcher in the back or if he had any extra clips for his Colt 45. Sanjar thought it would be ironically funny if Hawke was killed by him own gun; he thought it wasn't going to happen.

A hundred feet. No doubt about it, he was going to land whether he liked it or not. "Guess we'll land and hope for the best," he said aloud.

\A/

Saint John, clad in desert camo, moved closer to the compound where the agent had told him String was most likely being held. Whoever this guy was had to have known String would come in by air, Saint John thought grimly noticing the vast amounts of SAM's and other air systems he wasn't even familiar with. For a moment he found himself wondering why he didn't go by foot then, but soon found countless tracks of soldiers' boots that had marched in well worn paths at various locations throughout the area. But where were they now? Such a great army didn't disappear into thin air, but if they made such marches on a regular basis, why wouldn't they be now, especially now that they had a prisoner?

Something wasn't right. It was too quiet, too empty. Perhaps they had moved on, forsaken this place for another. No, that didn't make sense either. They wouldn't leave the weaponry. Such new technology could probably be sold for millions on the black market.

Staying low and hiding behind any available object between him and the compound, he crept closer, constantly assessing the area, on the lookout for any clue as to what they had done to his brother or where they might've taken him.

Climbing up from behind a large rock, he noticed fresh blood only recently having dried there and another few drops in the front of the rock and moving in the direction he had just come from. Staggering and dragging footsteps in the sand making a separate path in the sand.

A few yards away the footsteps gave way to a larger indention in the sand, more blood staining the sand there.

What if it had been String? It looked like he had fallen or been thrown or shoved there, and the blood, that couldn't be a good sign. He knew one thing - he had to find String and soon . The question was - how?


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Airwolf was now safely on the ground and out of harm's way, for now at least. A decidedly lightheaded feeling fell over him, his breath coming quick and shallow. If he was going to get out of here alive he had to get moving, get Airwolf repaired enough to fly home and get the heck out of dodge, but maybe a quick break wouldn't hurt, he thought as another nauseating wave washed over him.

"Just have to figure out what's wrong…" he panted to himself, wearily dragging himself out of the helicopter and round outside to survey how bad the physical damage was.

AS his hands ran over the sleek fuselage, checking every inch of it and also leaning heavily against it for support, he found himself thinking grimily about just how long he could realistically survive like this. He didn't have any injuries that were life threatening on their own but that didn't mean he didn't still feel absolutely miserable. He'd had the crap beat out of him multiple times a day for what seemed like forever now, had had practically nothing to eat, and now he was stranded out here to burn up in the desert, persistent rays of sunshine incessantly beating down upon him. Maybe it, just for once, cold be something simple. Something he could rig long enough to get home, get some rest, then repair properly, he tried to encourage himself as his grip slipped and he collapsed into the sand, too weak and tired to even bother attempting to get up.

\A/

Carefully and quietly, Saint John made his way down each corridor, constantly on the lookout while searching for some sign of his younger brother.

Shoving a heavy door open, he revealed the second of what seemed to the only two holding cells. This one was different though - smaller, only eight by eight at the most, and not a single possible way of escape, a thin mattress, adorn with blood stains, the only furniture, and it had splattering of the drying sticky substance throughout. String had been here, he just knew it. Someone had been staying here recently and there just wasn't any other place he could've been, but the question was the same - where was he now?

He figured the most recent additions to the dark red substance clinging to the floor and about head height if he were sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall had not been there long, indicating he had just recently been moved,_ or escaped, _he thought with a faint hope.

He continued his search, his final room being the interrogation room. Stepping inside, he caught only a vague sense of the horrors that had gone on in this room. Blood splattered all over a chair that looked as if it had repeatedly had something metal banged against it, and an empty bullet shell embedded into the far wall and a dark haired man's body draped unceremoniously across the floor, a pool of blood underneath it.

It wasn't String he quickly realized much to his relief, but he had been shot, clean in the middle of the forehead. Surely all of this blood wasn't his though. It just didn't make sense. But who else had been here then? String? He hoped not. It didn't look like a single thing in here didn't involve massive bloodshed, definitely not a fate he would wish upon String. Unfortunately, he guessed String had spent plenty of time in here, judging by what he thought must've been his brother's prison cell. All the more reason to find him sooner than later, he reasoned. He could have some serious injury or bleed out, and he couldn't let that happen, he just couldn't.

\A/

The doctor handed the squirming child back to his mother. "Admittedly, he wasn't very cooperative, but to me he looks perfectly healthy," she told Caitlin.

"Daddy wolf need help," Chance finally said, speaking for the first time in hours.

\A/

Leaving the compound, he went to search the outside again, avoiding the few guards that were left to patrol the near deserted area. He went back to the place he had first seen the blood on the rock and sand, going over it again thoroughly. At last he found three indentions spread apart in the a triangular shape in the sand, like the three wheels of a helicopter. Airwolf? he wondered hopefully. There were many other typed of helicopters with wheels he understood, but the possibility was there.

Reaching for the radio in one of the empty jeeps he went radio Airwolf, but received only a static reply. The radio was out, what did that mean for the rest of Airwolf?

If Airwolf wasn't in very good condition, then she probably wasn't far away, Saint John rationalized. And that would explain the sudden vacancy if they'd gone after him. It was worth a try. Maybe if he 'borrowed' one of the jeeps he could find them.

Saint John climbed into the jeep without hesitation and hotwiring it then revved the engine and sped off, leaving a huge dud cloud behind him.

\A/

Breathing heavily and wishing the thin grey flight suit wasn't so thick and heavy, Hawke finally attempted to climb to his feet, leaning heavily against Airwolf's sides as he did so. With an enormous amount of effort, he finally managed to pull open the side hatch and haul himself inside. Trying to catch his breath again, he contemplated what he should do to aid in his escape from inside the cockpit, after he found the canteen.

With shaking hands he pulled himself into the back engineer's seat and fiddled with a covering until he had pulled it off and started the arduous task of rerouting the circuit board, passing over anything that wasn't absolutely essential for the long trip home.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Flinging the jeep around another tight corner and sending the back end drifting, Saint John was beginning to think that maybe he should take up a career in drag racing. Not until he'd found String though.

Catching sight of what he guessed to be rotor wash, he followed it through the dry, sandy desert until it finally led him to the prize he was seeking.

Airwolf was resting alone in the desert, the only obstruction visible for miles, the long rotors shifting slightly in the wind, until he realized there was no wind. Gradually and ever so slowly, they gained momentum, stirring up a large cloud of dust, then slowing again and finally coming to a complete stop once again.

Saint John carefully made his way toward the sleek helicopter, making sure he was easily seen and could be identified so he didn't get shot for sneaking up on String.

Pulling the co-pilot's side door open and peering inside, he caught no sign of his younger brother. Someone had been in here, had to have been, but where were they now?

"String? String are you in here?"

"Yeah," he panted. "I'm back here."

"Ah, String, you look like-"

"Hell," he finished. "Yeah I know, feel like it too. Just wanna get home."

"A hospital more likely," Saint John objected.

String shook his head adamantly despite the nauseating feeling in his stomach.

"Listen, I know you don't like them, I don't either, but you do need to go see a doctor."

"Home - the cabin," he replied breathlessly. "Just get me out of here."

"Ok. I can do that much," Saint John promised.

\A/

Caitlin watched in amazement as the little child slept peacefully. The whole time Hawke had been gone Chance had been acting a little off and definitely not settle. She'd be surprised if he got more than a couple hours of sleep the whole week. She hadn't gotten much either, had been too worried to, but finally she had succumbed to exhaustion. Chance had stayed awake most of the time and even when he slept much of the while he had spent muttering things about his dad and the wolf, a subject that had constantly been on his mind while Hawke had been gone, almost a link, a link she didn't understand, but nevertheless seemed to be there. If there was a connection, his now peaceful, serene attitude should be of some consolation.

\A/

Michael sat at his desk awaiting Delbar's return. The undercover agent from Iran would be coming back for a week long vacation to take care of some business and to relax a little before having to go back. Hopefully she would bring back some good news on Hawke's condition and whereabouts, or better yet, bring back Hawke himself.

Samantha came into the office and announced Delbar's arrival.

"Please, send her right in," Michael requested.

Samantha nodded and sent the Iranian agent in.

Delbar strode over to Michael's desk confidently/ "got your own big desk, office, and everything I see. Not too shabby."

I've done pretty well here," Michael replied.

"But it looks like you bare a few new battle scars since I last saw you."

"It has been a while," Michael reminded. "But they've all been earned in the line of duty. How about you?" he asked, changing the subject away from himself. "Have you had any recent American visitors in Iran?"

"Wondering if your agent arrived safely, are we? He did. I'm not so sure how far he made it after that though, he didn't even have a scheduled plan figured out or a flight back. Said something about finding something then worrying about getting back. A planned flight wasn't necessary. In my opinion, that is a rather dangerously lax way to deal with theses missions."

"He's not exactly my agent, and he wouldn't even be there if it weren't for his brother being held captive there."

"Brother? You're really falling down on the job, Michael. When I started you wouldn't even let family work together, for this kind of reason. Something about keeping priorities straight or something, maybe?"

"This is a special case, freelance, the usual rules don't apply. Now do you have anything to report or not?"

"Sanjar has practically abandoned his hideout, totally moved out, but not taken anything with him, so I guess he plans to return. And your agent, or whatever you call him, was intending to try stopping him there. We lost contact after that and I don't know what happened. That's all I know, and now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to so I can take the next flight back."

"You're going back immediately?" Michael sounded surprised.

"Yeah, just as soon as possible."

"Might I ask why you are suddenly so eager considering you've spent the last six months trying to get me to get reassigned?"

"Saint John, sir. I told him he could stay at my place if he needed on the way back, and that I'd take care of any medical issues either of them might have."

"Do you understand the security risk that you would be taking?"

"Most definitely. But a promise is a promise. You surely understand that with your 'freelance agents' Stringfellow and Saint John Hawke, don't you?" she added with a wicked grin.

"How much did he tell you?"

"Just about anything I wanted to know."

"So taking them in wouldn't be much more risk than you are yourself."

"Pretty much."

"Fine. Complete any necessary business here and report back to Iran immediately. The remainder of your vacation time will be used after you make sure the Hawke's make it out and you will be reassigned to a new location."

"Thank you."

"Delbar, I wouldn't try that again. The next person you have to deal with most likely won't be near as accommodating."

"Got it," she answered briefly.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

"Does she fly?" Saint John asked his younger brother?

"Not yet. If you'll help me up onto the winglet, I think I can rig it long enough to make it back home."

"I'll do it, you don't need to be standing up there, just tell me what to do."

"I don't know."

"If you don't know how are you expecting to fix it when I get you up there?"

"I just will, I can't explain it."

"Let me take a look at it fist. I'm not totally helicopter inept, you know."

"Never said you were."

Saint John climbed up onto the outside of the stubby wing and removed the covering next to the rotors and stared into the wild tangle of wire before him. With a disaster like this he wondered how in the world String had ever gotten Airwolf this far.

\A/

"Any more news?" Dom question after the agent's visit.

"She lost contact with Saint John, but plans to get back there as soon as possible to offer any assistance she can."

"What kind of assistance?

"Like I said, we don't know yet, but she already told them to stay away from hospitals and like places as that is probably one of the likely places Sanjar would have people waiting for them at."

"What if they need medical help though?"

"That is why she is trying to catch the next flight out, she'll be able to handle it, I know."

"How? How do you know? I doubt they've been wining and dining him there, you should understand that."

"I do. Delbar has a pharmaceutical and medical doctorate as well as a psychological one, and specializes with trauma victims and rehabilitation, along with other things. He'll handle it, Dominic. I understand your concern for them, but they'll be in good hands."

\A/

Saint John stood behind his brother steadying his weak stance and alert for the slightest hint of his brother's collapsing or passing out knowing it was inevitable. Personally, he felt ready to collapse and he hadn't been through near the same events recently.

"You doing ok up there?"

"Almost done," he grunted in reply.

They'd been out here for practically an eternity just trying to get Airwolf off the ground and still without success. Sanjar's men could be showing up any minute, it being a miracle they hadn't shown up yet. They were coming, he had no doubt about that, how they were going to be stopped was yet to be seen.

"Finished," the younger Hawke breathed. "Try it now."

As String climbed down, Saint John climbed into the cockpit and started both engines. Soon the rotors were up to normal speed and slicing through the air easily.

"I've gotta hand it to you, I don't know how you did it, but you did."

"Yeah. The turbos won't work though and neither will most of the weapons though, so we had better stay out of trouble."

"Us? Stay out of trouble? Ha ha, you're funny. I think it must run it our blood or something."

"We've got another problem," String said seriously.

"What?"

"We'll need to schedule a refueling between here and home and the long distance radio is still out."

"No problem, I'll take care of that one."

\A/

Delbar walked up to the door, unlocking it and surprised to find an unfamiliar man comfortably sleeping on her sofa.

Instinctively, she drew up her gun, all the while wondering why the intruder had decided to come sleep of all things. What kind of agent are you? She self scolded. You can't second guess yourself like that. Do what has to be done and ask questions later. But just before she pulled the trigger, she recognized another man sleeping closer to the front door that she'd obviously walked directly past - Saint John Hawke. So this was the brother he was after she mused. Quite a looker in her opinion, not that it really mattered. After this she'd probably never see him again; she'd be in a new home in a new country, with a new identity and background. Who would she be this time? She wondered. She'd been a dancer, a pilot, a lawyer, even a doctor and a waitress. She'd tried to have a family, to finally settle down with someone and have a semi normal life, but she was in the wrong business for that. All it had gotten her was a dead son, divorced husband, and a brother she hardly ever talked to. These poor souls probably had similar stories - a life filled with dead ends, dead bodies, war and pain, guilt and shame, and ending up with nothing to show for it, yet unable to leave the past behind and start over.

Letting out a long breath, she figured that once they were awake they might need a little food and care then they would be off, going back home, wherever that might currently be.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Slowly bridging the space between sleep and normal consciousness, Stringfellow Hawke felt something cool against his head, the first thing he'd felt that was actually pleasurable in the last week at least. Someone had a firm grip on his hand, but it wasn't the cruel, painful, restraining one he'd been forced to deal with so much lately. It was cool to the touch, delicately, long finger absently brushing against the bruised knuckles and wrists. Again the cool cloth came up, gently scrubbing away all the dirt and grime left there by the recent events. The caring, loving touch was almost too much, too good to be true, he thought to himself. Nothing was how it truly seemed on the surface, nothing this pleasurable could be real, not after what he'd just been through. Better to wake up and end the dream before it got too good, he decided, finally opening his eyes to reveal the scene around him.

Much to his surprise, it was about as close to perfect as he could hope for. Concerned yet realized, loving hazel eye gazed into his lighter blue ones, the worry and unease instantly melting away and replaced by relief, and a small smile tugging at her lips, lips that he sound found himself seeking, kissing lightly yet so passionately. As he finally pulled away he simply smiled, so absolutely overjoyed to be here.

"It's goof to see you," she whispered quietly as she set down the cool washcloth.

"It's even better to see you."

Things were as they should be, Caitlin here with him and Chance sleeping peacefully next to him, but how?

"How did I get here?" he questioned finally.

"You're home again, that's what matters," Caitlin replied softly, not wishing to go back over any of the recent event's details even vaguely.

"I know," he said smiling back at her and taking in her beauty, now realizing just how much he had missed her. "But please, just satisfy my curiosity."

Delbar. Saint John and you had crashed at her place and he woke before you did. They got to talking for a while and she found out what they'd done to you and wanted to do all she could to help but by then Sanjar had found out and was coming after you all. Your condition wasn't serious enough to need immediate hospitalization, although she does suggest you seeing a doctor, and decided that sleep would be the best medicine for you.

"She tranquilized you and they took out Sanjar and his army then took you back here so you could recuperate."

"Sanjar, he's been taken care of?"

She nodded. "Sorry you had to miss all the action, but I agree on it being the best idea, especially since knowing you, you aren't planning on seeing any doctor, are you?"

"I am."

"You are?" her tone was a surprised one, caught totally off guard by his statement,

"Yep - Chance's favorite - Dr. Mom."

She couldn't help rolling her eyes, knowing she should have been expecting some quip like that.

"I"ll be good," he promised, stretching stiffly. "Besides, I don't think I'm going to do anyone much good all stove up like this."

"Sure," she remarked sarcastically. "I'm sure you're going to stay right here in bed, letting me take care of you until you're all better."

"Hmmm… now that you mention it, I can think of a few things I'd like you to do for me…."


End file.
